


[REDACTED] Greene

by Adohug



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Canon but slightly to the left, F/F, Non-binary character, but she's not totally me, enby alyssa, im apologizing here if the characters are ooc, me? projecting? always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adohug/pseuds/Adohug
Summary: She loves dresses. She loves makeup. She loves her long hair.Her mother’s comments, however, she can’t help but not love.Or: my first Prom fic where i immediately make someone enbyOr or: you're not yourself, you're not what she wants...





	[REDACTED] Greene

**Author's Note:**

> hey! i might be the only crossover fic writer between starkid and the prom, but if you recognize me im surprised. thanks for coming over to read this fic!

“You can’t talk to Emma Nolan.”

When Kaylee begins their conversation like that, she looks up from her lunch (a bag of dried up carrot sticks and a protein shake, ew) in confusion. “Why?” 

Kaylee rolls her eyes in clear annoyance. “Wow, Alyssa, haven’t you been keeping up? She’ll jump you.”

That only increases her confusion (which thankfully drowns out the twang of discomfort that hits her stomach occasionally). “Jump me? I’m sorry, are we thinking of the same person?” She’s thinking of Emma Nolan, the quiet girl with long blonde hair and glasses. She’s been partnered up with Emma for projects before, and the girl had been nothing but sweet, and helpful, and hardworking, and yeah a little anxious, and… Where’s she going with this?

A scoff brings her back to the lunch table. “Yes, we are. Emma Nolan: sixteen, antisocial, and a total lesbo!” Kaylee’s voice got louder, as if making the whole town aware of this fact has been her goal for this conversation.

Not like she _needed_ to tell everyone. She’d heard whispers and rumors about it all day; worse words than Kaylee’s have been prevalent.

However, she doesn’t see why it’s such a big deal (she knows why it’s a big deal, she just doesn’t agree).

Being one of the popular kids means that her reaction will be seen by half the school and known by everyone by the end of the day. What she says counts.

That doesn’t mean she can stop the “so what” from slipping out, drowned out by the white noise of the cafeteria. Quickly, before Kaylee can try and see what she says, she offers up a response. “Oh. I guess I was too focused on my work to keep up.” 

“Keep up with what?” Like an angel descending from Heaven, Shelby emerges from the lunch line just in time to end Kaylee’s attention on her. 

She lets the conversation of her friends wash over her, absorbing nothing from it. She nods when she needs to, but otherwise her mind is far away.

Not far, exactly, but she’s worried for the girl the whole school is talking about. Emma’s always been alone, and right now she must feel like the whole world is against her, especially since she hasn’t been in any of their shared classes today.

Emma Nolan needs a friend, and she’s determined to be that.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

She doesn’t see Emma Nolan the rest of the day, or the next. It’s only the Friday after she was outed that she walks back into school, guitar case in hand and hair cut to her chin. By all rights she should have been teary-eyed and looking like a mess, but that isn’t the case. She keeps her chin up, she keeps her eyes closed off, she doesn’t react to the shoulders and elbows in the halls, the words said “out of earshot” about her, the whispers that follow her down the hallway.

She couldn’t take her eyes off her. 

They share the class before lunch, and she’s determined to talk to her. So, as soon as the bell rings she keeps her eyes on Emma Nolan, following her and shooting off a quick text about a project to Shelby when she asks.

The pair end up in… the music hallway? (She hasn’t been down here since she went to the marching band director to ask him a question about Homecoming for cheer last year.) She watches from the corner of the hallway as Emma Nolan pulls a key out from her pocket and opens a closet, shutting the door behind her.

She makes her way down to the door, hand already up to knock before she has any idea of what to say. What if she doesn’t want a friend? What if she thinks she’s here to ridicule her? What if--

Her knuckles hit the door as she lowers her hand, loud in the empty hallway and exactly what she needed to escape her spiral. Courage rebuilt, she actually knocks, whispering out a soft “Hello? Emma Nolan?”

The small noises from the room quiet, as if whoever inside doesn’t want to be caught. No response comes.

She tries again. “Emma, I saw you come in here? I’ve been hearing what everyone’s saying, and I just wanted to say…” (What _did_ she want to say?) “I just… I don’t believe them.”

Silence.

Then, a shuffling, and the sound of a lock clicking out of place. Before she has time to process it, she’s face-to-face (relatively, the blonde is taller than her) with a teary-eyed Emma Nolan instead of a door. 

“You should.”

With those words, looking into eyes that haven’t yet shed the tears that need to come, she _understands_.

Without another word, she walks forward and envelops Emma Nolan in a hug. She stiffens, at first, but a shaky inhale and the choking out of a sob are the cracks needed to open the floodgates.

And there, in a dusty closet in an abandoned hallway, Emma Nolan cries for the first time all week.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s only so many times she can lie about hanging out with Kaylee and Shelby before her mother pulls her to the mall for some “mother-daughter time.” They go to the mall a couple towns over for more options, and end up in a clothing store, trying on dresses for fun.

Normally, she loves dresses. They’re flowy, and when she twirls they poof up and make her giggle, not to mention how comfortable they are.

But today…

“Oh, Alyssa, that dress is beautiful! You look like the wonderful woman you’re growing to be.” Her mom gushes out superlatives as she exits the changing room, and she suppresses the rising discomfort with a smile she knows will fool her mom. She gives a twirl; the air under the fabric helps lessen the feeling of wrongness, but her mother going on about how ladylike the dress is quickly diminishes its effectiveness.

She loves dresses. She loves makeup. She loves her long hair.

Her mother’s comments, however, she can’t help but not love.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Lunches in the band closet become a routine. She and Emma eat, and sometimes Emma plays a song for her on her guitar, but they mostly talk until the bell rings and pulls them from their little world.

She likes girls. She’s known she has for a while, but it never seemed important. She goes on “dates” with Greg to appease Kaylee and Shelby (they don’t mean anything; she sees how Greg looks at Jackson) and keeps her preferences to herself, until she and Emma become friends.

During one of their lunches, she finishes telling a joke she already doesn't remember and Emma starts laughing, and when she’s done she holds her side like she hurt herself, and she just wants to lean in and--

But Emma thinks she likes boys.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

She’s dropping hints like crazy whenever she can, but either Emma is dense or she’s not being obvious enough. On the few occasions that she thinks Emma picks up on her interest, she gets a small laugh (nervous laughter; she’s learned the difference) and a “‘Lys, c’mon.”

_Lys_. Emma had picked up on her discomfort around her name early on, and started calling her Lys instead. And though it shouldn’t matter (just a nickname, she tells herself), it somehow _does_. It matters so much to her, and she can’t help that her heart flips and she smiles a little wider whenever she hears it come from Emma’s lips (that she _really wants to kiss_, dammit).

Even with the nickname, she’s getting impatient, and decides to simply tell her one day (to anyone but Emma, just the idea of saying it makes her anxiety skyrocket and her heart jump into her throat, effectively silencing her. Telling Emma, however… feels right.) during lunch.

“So after Olivia Coleman helped me realize I like girls, I joined-- Emma?” She cuts herself off, concern pulsing through her veins.

Emma unfreezes. “What? Oh, shit-” realizing she dropped her water bottle, she jolts into action and bends to pick it up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just-” She cuts herself off.

“You just what?” She prompts, knowing the question about to be asked.

“I thought I heard you say- are you- are you gay?” The _too_ is left unsaid, but she knows it’s there.

“Well…” She leans back, resting her head on the cold wall. “Sort of? If by gay you mean a girl who likes girls, then it’s only partially right.”

“Lys?” She meets Emma’s eyes, hazel and confused, yet patient. 

She sighs. She’s telling her more than she wanted to, but might as well tell it all, right? “I _do_ like girls, but… I don’t feel like a girl. But I’m not a boy!” She’s quick to stop that line of thought, averting her eyes. “I guess I’m just- well, no, I _am_\- I’m in between, or neither of them? I’m not really sure yet.” She barely takes a breath before continuing. “I’m sorry, this was stupid to tell you, you probably think I’m fooling myself--” She stops herself.

It’s quiet (fuck, she doesn’t like her). Emma’s not saying anything (she hates her). She’s not even sure if time is still passing (she’ll never kiss her).

She’s about to open her mouth again, when “Lys” cuts her off. She looks up into those hazel eyes again (no more confusion, replaced with-- no, don’t go there, don’t get her hopes up) as Emma moves closer to her. She’s kneeling in front of her, grabbing her hand. “Lys, you are _not_ a freak. You are a wonderful human being, and I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

Tears she didn’t know were coming begin to fall, and she can’t stop herself from leaning forward and kissing Emma.

It isn’t much (heart beating, fireworks in her head, giddiness growing), just a pressing of lips together, but Emma’s kissing back, so it can’t be bad.

Eventually, they pull apart, happy and cautious. She can’t help but ask the question nagging at her. “I thought you were a lesbian?”

Emma shrugs. “I’m mainly attracted to women, yeah, but I also like non-binary people, it depends. It’s easier to just call myself gay, though.”

“Non-binary?” She’s never heard the word.

“Yeah, it’s a term people who aren’t guys or girls use to identify themselves.” Emma looks down at their still-together hands. “I, uh, talked to a couple of people online when I was figuring myself out, they told me a lot.”

She’s getting a little overwhelmed at all of this, so she follows her instinct to kiss Emma again.

The bell separates them this time, and she whispers a small _thank you_ to Emma before slipping out of the closet (hah) and heading to her next class, a spring in her step.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

**em en:** i never got the chance to ask, do you have a preferred name and/or pronouns i should use when we’re alone?

**[REDACTED] Greene:** A million and one things happened at lunch today, and you ask about trivial stuff?

**[REDACTED] Greene:** … Emma, when did my nickname change?

**em en:** no comment on the name change

**em en:** and it’s not trivial! i need to know what to call you so you feel safe around me!

**[REDACTED] Greene:** That’s really sweet of you, Em. x

**[REDACTED] Greene:** I haven’t given myself much thought… ever, but I like you calling me Lys. As for pronouns, I’ve never felt uncomfortable with she/her pronouns, or stuff inherently “girly”; it’s the gendered comments that put me on edge.

**[REDACTED] Greene:** I’ve spewed out a lot of information about myself today, I’m sorry.

**em en:** we both have a habit of apologizing too much, lys

**em en:** we should work on that together

**[REDACTED] Greene:** How about over coffee? I know a place a couple of towns over.

**em en:** lys greene, are you asking me out?

**[REDACTED] Greene:** Emma, we literally kissed twice today.

**[REDACTED] Greene:** YES, I’m asking you out.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, beautiful?”

“Occasionally.” 

“Handsome?”

“Do I _look_ male?”

“You look stunning, and like I’m trying to find descriptive words you feel comfortable with.”

“You truly know how to charm someone, Em.”

“It comes with the lesbianism. Now, how about darling?”

“Pet names? Take me to dinner first.”

“I’m too broke for dinner, how about a picnic instead?”

“Sure. And darling is fine.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

After a coffee and a picnic-turned-stargazing date (not to mention the getting-bolder kisses), Emma watches her in the band closet as she goes on and on about the latest shit Shelby’s been talking about.

“Lys?” She stops talking, looking over at the blonde. “I know we’ve been doing a lot of fun stuff, and we really don’t _have_ to make it official, or anything, but… will you be my partner?”

Somehow, through her brain’s inability to function, she finds her voice. “Different word.” She can feel the grin on her face; if she could grin any more around Emma, her face would hurt.

Emma smiles at her response, eyes sparkling. “Lys Greene, will you be my datefriend?”

Their lips connecting is answer enough, but she says _yes_ anyways.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d been dating officially for two (two!) years, and as happy as she is with her girlfriend, she’s tired. Tired of hiding, tired of being scared, tired of being pressured into going on dates with Greg (he knows about them, but only because he walked in on them shirtless at his and Emma’s grandma’s house), tired of lying. They come up with the perfect plan: go to Prom together, get it mostly over with, dance with her girlfriend, deal with the backlash on Monday in school.

Except her mom gets wind of Emma buying tickets (plural, they should have each gotten their own) and cancels the prom.

And then Mr. Hawkins is _this_ close (her fingers are touching) to convincing the PTA to reinstate it before a group of Broadway actors barge into the gym.

And then Emma is given a fake prom while she has a panic attack in the (gendered) bathroom in the Elks Lodge.

And then (it’s her fault, she’s a coward) Emma breaks up with her.

And then she’s saying “I love you, Emma Nolan” in front of the whole school (and her mom).

And now they’re finally, _finally_ dancing together in the redecorated gym, surrounded by other people like her and Emma, and the music is _perfect_, and this whole night has been amazing, and she can’t stop kissing her girlfriend--

“Yes, Emma! Get the girl!”

She doesn’t let her eyes move from Emma’s face as the twist of discomfort (dysphoria, a small voice supplies; Emma gave her a word for it) that had been gone all night rears its ugly head. She might have winced, but Emma tightens her grip on her and looks to whoever said that, her eyes indecipherable. She forces herself to focus on Emma, on her wavy hair and her pride pin on the lapel of her jacket and her tie and oh _God_ when did it get so _crowded_ in here--

A whisper in her ear jolts her from her spiral, and she takes a shaky breath (when did she stop breathing?). “Lys? Let’s get some air.” She nods.

They make their way outside, ignoring the concerned looks aimed her way. They end up in the band closet (_their_ band closet) before she realizes she’s crying.

“Babe, you’re okay, it’s just Barry being clueless, you’re okay,” Emma’s trying to soothe her (she’s been talking the entire time, she just didn’t notice), and it almost works.

“They don’t know, I forgot that no one else _knows_, they all know we’re dating but _they don’t know_\--” She’s cut off by Emma’s lips, sinking into the familiarity of her girlfriend and effectively shutting her brain down momentarily. Eventually (too soon) Emma pulls away, slightly out of breath but determined to speak.

“Lys, you are an _amazing_ human being. You’re the best datefriend a girl could ask for, you look stunning in that outfit, and you make me so happy. I love you, Lys Greene, and even if no one else knows who you really are, you have me. Always.”

She smiles, sniffing once before kissing Emma again (softer, trying to convey all of her emotions, even if she can’t quite name them all right now). When she pulls back, she takes a shaky breath. “I want to tell the… Broadway Gang. Even if they don’t understand, I want more than just you to know.”

Emma smiles and moves to stand up, but her hands stop her. “I love you, Emma.”

Her smile turns softer. “I love you too, Lys.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

She was right; they don’t quite understand what she’s trying to say, but they make an effort to stop the gendered descriptors about her (which is more than she asked of them, and she can’t help but feel loved).

She feels better after telling them, and thinks that talking to Kaylee and Shelby will go about the same.

And it does (but it also doesn’t).

Shelby is quiet after she’s done, eyes unreadable. Kaylee, however, won’t stop with the questions.

“How can you _not_ be a girl? Why can’t you be happy with how God made you? Is there _anything_ about you that I know that’s true?”

The questions are insistent, neverending, and she won’t stop them, and-- 

“Kaylee, could you just shut up for a minute and let her-- let them explain?”

She looks to Shelby, surprise probably (definitely) showing. “Shelbs?”

Shelby gives her an apologetic smile. “Her confusion is expected -- there aren’t many queer kids in Indiana -- but she could be more polite, don’t you think?”

Shelby speaks as if she isn’t the first person to tell her about something like this, but her eyes say that’s a conversation for later (for just the two of them). In any case, she quiets Kaylee down, and starts asking questions that hurt less.

“Have you changed your name?”

“Not really? I don’t like being called Alyssa, but Emma calls me Lys? And, uhm, before you ask, I still like she/her pronouns. It’s too weird to change them now, when you’ll see me for a couple months before I’m off to college.” She’s been thinking about trying out new pronouns, but waiting until college seemed the smartest choice.

Shelby nods, understanding. “Lys it is, right Kaylee?” Her not-so-gentle nudge earns her a glare from Kaylee and a laugh from her, but the other girl nods too (this sleepover is going to be a long one).

The questions continue through the night, mostly by Shelby’s prompting, but by the time she leaves the next morning she feels so much better about everything.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shelbs? You looked like you wanted to talk earlier.”

“I did. You know how my sister was kicked out when I was five? How I was banned from talking to her?”

“Yeah? No one’s mentioned her in years.”

“I found him on instagram a couple years ago. We’ve been talking without Mom and Dad knowing.”

“Really? Shelby, I’m so happy you-- him?”

“Yeah. Turns out he wasn’t a girl either.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Graduation comes and goes and before she can catch her breath she’s packing Emma’s pickup truck with most of their childhood (less of Emma’s, but there’s still stuff) and hugging her mother good-bye (“This client came up at just the wrong moment but he’s too important to just drop” and other excuses came from her mother’s mouth instead of an apology that she can’t come move her into college).

After one more hug and a promise to “be the smart woman you are” (She’s learned to smile through the pain when if comes from her mother), she climbs into the passenger seat and settles in for the hours-long drive to her college. Emma puts on her happy music, making her smile and sing along (purposefully terribly) and forget about the unknown that lies ahead.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

She talked to Emma in the car, about names and pronouns and if they’d still be dating or if this was a fresh start (still dating. Breaking up was torture the last time). Emma left most of it up to her, mainly being a backboard for her own conflicting and erratic thoughts. Eventually, they figured out the root of the problem: her.

Not _her_, as Emma was quick to point out (“Lys, I cannot believe we’re back on this self-deprecating bullshit”), but how she wanted to be seen. How she would present herself to the world. __

_ _Whatever came out of her mouth when she introduced herself for the first time, she decided (She was far to nervous about everything to decide in the car; her split-second decisions are always a safe bet)._ _

_ _\--------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

_ _They couldn’t room together, so she has a roommate she only knows the name of (she went online without her mother and talked to the rooming people about getting a roommate like her, they said they’d try). Seeing the obviously-female name on the rooming email made her sigh, but she told herself she’d be happy either way._ _

_ _Walking into her room with Emma in tow (Emma’s room is down the hall but she won the bet, so her stuff is being unpacked first), she’s surprised to already find her roommate there, who looks up with blue eyes and a short haircut (sort of like a boy’s) as the pair enter._ _

_ _“Hi, are you--”_ _

_ _“Hey, roomie! My parents signed me up for this using my legal name, which I haven’t gone by in years. I’m just glad I was able to request preferences for roommates, so I wanted to clear the air first and foremost.” Her roommate sticks a hand out, flashing a smile. “I’m Angelo Markel, he/him.”_ _

_ _She blinks, looking to her girlfriend for a moment (she shrugged; some help) before smiling back at him and taking his hand to shake it. Now is the perfect time to start fresh. “I’m Lys Greene, they/she.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! kudos, comments, damnations, praise, whatever, please show me you read this!
> 
> im judastarkid on tumblr feel free to yell at me


End file.
